A Lion in Paris
by joyincreation
Summary: The lion quieted his breathing and stood to look out the window on a dark, cloudy night in Paris. Based off of thelana's plot bunny posted over at morganreid cm on lj.
1. Prologue

A sleeping lion rolled over in a restless dream; stalking his prey even in sleep. Muscles tensed as a rumble escaped his heavy body and he rolled over once again, spreading out his limbs as far as possible in the heat of a Parisian summer. The lion finally awoke in a rush of nightmares and memories of his past hunts. Flashes of the kill and the rush of a night spent stalking the unsuspecting made the lion groan in the thrill of memories. Shuddering, he relaxed back towards the ground and breathed in deep the night's drowsy air. Agent Derek Morgan breathed a sigh of relief as he looked around his tiny yet tidy loft.

The lion quieted his breathing and stood to look out the window on a dark, cloudy night in Paris. Derek looked onto the Parc Monceau, the familiar trees and graceful paths comforting him in a way nothing else did. He'd been living in Paris for three years now and Monceau was one of the few restful places he'd found. With the life that Derek lived; it was a luxury he was willing to pay for to live so close.

Derek Morgan lived a life that none of his friends, or family knew about; he was a spy. He would cringe at the term every time some new book used it; he wasn't a spy in that sense. He didn't go out and uncover plots to destroy the world, he didn't find any damsels in distress living under the thumb of some evil Count, and it sure wasn't the exciting, living moment-to-moment job that everyone portrayed it as. If anyone asked- not that Derek could actually answer- he would tell them he was an Asset. He waited around until he got an opportunity, then slipped into some place he wasn't supposed to be, took some photos, then slipped back out and passed them to a courier to be delivered to whom ever got his information.

Everyone in Derek's life thought he was just a boxer, an excellent boxer that was famous around Europe for his skill and ease in the ring. It was an easy story to tell; too much of it was true to begin with, for it to be difficult. Derek had moved from the US to France because of the discrimination he'd faced back home, after all it was one thing to be black…but mixed, that was something even the toughest of people had trouble dealing with in America. France, however, had a reputation for tolerance that was unprecedented. So he'd moved; his mother had understood after what had happened to his father. No one knew that his trip however was facilitated in a big way by the United States government.

Derek had settled for a few months near the center of the city, working on becoming integrated into the boxing world and Paris as a whole. As he traveled the city, and later the country and continent; he discovered that he loved one thing above all else in his new life- Parisian parks. Especially Parc Monceau, it was so calm and serene; something that Derek felt had been lacking from his life as a whole. So after a few more months of getting paid and rising fame, Derek got an apartment at the end of Rue Rembrandt that over looked the park.

Comforting himself once again with thoughts of the walks and days spent in the park, Derek ended his dazing and returned to bed. Tomorrow was a busy day and he couldn't afford to be anything less than on his toes. A big day at the gym, a meeting with his manager, and a fight with one of Paris' most famous boxers: George Foyet known affectionately as 'The Reaper'.


	2. Chapter One

The lion roared; ending a spar with one of his favorite partners Derek's heart was rushing faster than he could move. He took a huge breaths drawing back in life that a moment ago was lost in the passion of the fight. He quietly clapped the man on his back and moved to pack up his training session for the day. Slipping below the ropes and next to his pack Derek saw just the man he was- about to be- looking for: Agent Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch- as Derek had named him after many tries on his French teammates part to pronounce his name- was not an agent in the sense that Derek was, but in the more literal sense that he was one of Paris' most successful, yet not well known, Managers. Unlike most agents however Hotch didn't just manage boxers, or even athletes. He would help anyone he saw with talent get where they wanted to go, and made a lot of money doing it. Derek knew of only one other client of Hotch's a singer that he'd been introduced to: Penelope Garcia, a Catalonian born just south of the France-Spain border, she would often claim 'The Count of Monte Cristo' as her inspiration for moving to Paris, saying that she was a Catalonian who discovered she was pregnant by a man who was now in prison, where else would she go?

Coming closer Hotch frowned deeply, walking faster coming to a stop right in front of Derek. Taking Derek's pack from up off the floor, he casually lead Derek to the entrance of the club, looking from any outsiders perspective as if Derek was the one doing the leading and calling the shots.

"Why were you fighting Will? He's not nearly challenging enough for what we've got going on tonight!" Hotch raved quietly as they exited the club and walked down the street.

"Relax. I fought Christian and Michael before you showed up, plenty challenging. Will was more of a favor for him than practice for me." Derek soothed grabbing back his bag and slinging it across his broad chest.

"You're going to be fighting Foyet tonight Derek, it's not exactly the time to be handing out favors. Do I have to remind you what happened last time Foyet fought someone? The only reason I'm even letting you do this is because you said you'd be prepared, you said you'd knock the guy out first try and not even let him get near you." Hotch reminded him walking a bit slower now and lowering his voice to an actual speaking tone.

"I know I did, and I am. I'm so prepared I can't stand it. Don't worry, I won't let him even get a punch in okay?" Derek asked stepping in front of Hotch to stop him, not receiving an answer he tried again. "Okay, mom?"

"I told you not to call me that." Was the only reply Derek received.

"I can't help it you worry to much, reminds me of my mom." Derek said affectionately slinging his arm around the agent's shoulders. "Now I think it's about time you take me to lunch."

"On me of course," Hotch smiled a rare smile, reserved usually for when Derek was being cocky.

"Of course."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Hotch began before hearing Derek groan loudly, "What?"

"Last time you wanted to 'talk to me about lunch' was when I met Pen, and I really don't need you setting me up anymore. We talked about that." Derek reminded the older man.

"Yes, we did that's why were going to meet Doctor Spencer Leopold Reid, not a woman. Who shall I remind you, you are very close friends with now?" Hotch scolded walking them across the street and to the door of a café.

"Really? And, why may I ask are we meeting him?" Derek asked intrigued.

"You'll find out I'm sure." Hotch answered mysteriously walking into the café and getting them a table outside.

Derek laughed openly drawing a few looks his way, shaking his head at the antics of his manager he followed him and sat down at a wrought-iron table.

"So really who is this guy?" Derek asked after ordering a water until their mysterious guest arrived to complete their party.

"He's a pianist that I manage," Hotch answered looking over a menu.

"I thought you said he was a doctor, and why are we meeting a pianist?" Derek asked perplexed.

"He is a doctor, and a genius. He was actually one of my first clients, eleven years ago. He was eight and saw him in the park. He was moving his hands across this stone bench just like he was playing a piano, so I went over and asked him if he knew how to play or was just pretending, I was a hawk for talent even then. His fingers were bleeding, Derek, he didn't even notice he was so entranced." Hotch said with an amazed look on his face "I took him to my house and had Sophie fix him up. We figured out that he lived with his mentor Jason Gideon- a yank like you. I convinced him to let me get some gigs for Spencer and we've been working together ever since. He has a perfect memory, anything you put in front of the kid he can remember. So we sent him to college, and he got his degree in music, then another in literature, then another and another. We just can't keep the kid away from his books."

"Wow, that's incredible. Why's he meeting me?" Derek questioned astonished at the life's story of Spencer Reid.

"That I really will make you wait for until he gets here." Hotch replied pulling up his menu once again.

After a few minutes of trying to decide whether he wanted the chicken or a stew that had what he would guess to be mushrooms in it, a shadow fell upon their table marking the presence of on Doctor Spencer Reid.

That shadow was one that light up Derek's day. He looked like Monceau at night; all the cities lights shining through the trees onto Derek's face and the calm of abandoned stone gazebos. He looked like Derek's first summer in France; so strange, new, and everything he'd dreamed of all those years in America. He was dressed very stylishly in a dark navy three piece suit; however the jacket of his three piece was a soft crème blazer and he wore a bowler hat slung far back on his head showcasing his long Oscar Wilde-esque brunette hair. He looked so carefree and unique that Derek could not help but stare if just for a moment. Spencer looked shyly about the table at both men sitting; and it endeared him to Derek all the more.

"Hello Spencer," Hotch said standing and grasping the young man in a familiar hug. "Decided to forgo the tie today?"

"Have to change it up every once in a while," Spencer smiled back easily sitting in between the two men on the far side of the table.

"Spencer, I'd like you to meet Derek Morgan a very talented boxer; Derek, this is Doctor Spencer Reid I was telling you about," Hotch introduced the pair with an eye towards both, judging reactions and motions.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan," Spencer said extending his hand across the table to shake with Derek.

"Derek, please. It's nice to meet you as well, Hotch was just telling me a little about you." Derek said shaking the warm, soft hand firmly.

"Then I insist you call me Spencer, and I assure you whatever he said while almost undoubtedly true was most likely very out of character and a most misleading statement." Spencer replied smiling widely and looking out of the corner of his eye at Hotch.

"Oh really? Has our little Hotch been misleading us?" Derek teased taking Spencer's cue and looking across the table to the older man.

"I do not mislead, I direct conversations in the way I would like them to head." Hotch stated, staring pointedly down at his menu.

"Of course," Spencer said taking off his hat and throwing it on the table next to him. "So what, may I ask, did you call me here for?"

"Well, Derek has a very important fight tonight that I thought you might enjoy helping with." Hotch began as he met eyes with Derek laughing inwardly at the question in the boxer's eyes. "You see, the man that Derek is fighting tonight is the most dangerous boxer in France, and we could use every advantage. I know you've been studying psychology lately and I was thinking that perhaps seeing into Foyet's mindset would be useful."

Hearing the new project set out for him Spencer's eyes began to shine in excitement and his mouth began to twitch as if explanations were already beginning to pour out of his brain. Derek couldn't help but be amused at the clear joy in the young pianists eyes at sharing his seemingly infinite knowledge.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Even psychologists don't realize the full applications for the field, and projects like this are the perfect testing ground for just about every theory that we have. I'm more than happy to help, tell me what we know about Foyet. Anything you know is helpful; where he grew up, what he likes, even his favorite foods can tell us a lot about him." Spencer said leaning forward as worked his way from calm, charming pianist to excitable, intense intellectual.

"Well, no one knows much. He's from Lyon, that's where he started boxing. He's worked his way up from the underground; he used to fight in the streets for cash. I've been told that he was so ruthless that no one would fight him anymore and he had to start going to a boxing gym to work off his reputation. However he was recruited and brought to Paris. He's killed three people in the ring and has been put on probation more times than even you could count Spencer. Not only that, he has a reputation for being the biggest… jerk shall we say in the entire industry." Hotch started looking to Derek to see if there was anything else to include.

"All the guys hate him; most of them can respect another athlete but this is something else. He works out at a gym across town and everyone there says he never spars, just comes in and works all day." Derek added thinking of all the things he'd ever heard about Foyet; which considering the legend he'd created was very little.

"Well…"Spencer started, the look on his face making Derek and Hotch wonder just how long this was going to take.

* * *

Two and a half hours later Derek found himself much more educated in the mindset of his opponent and on Doctor Spencer Reid. The latter intrigued him more than Derek liked to think about. Spencer held himself in a way that Derek was completely unfamiliar and in awe of; he didn't seem to think that anyone looked at him-that he wasn't being judged about anything other than what was coming out of his mouth-and yet he was hyperaware. He noticed everything and used it, not to his own advantage but for others. It was astounding how enthralled with this younger man Derek was.

"You should come to the fight tonight." And it seemed that Derek couldn't keep these interests to himself, even if he tried. "Find out if all your theories are right."

"I would enjoy that, I've never been to a fight before." Spencer said putting his hat back on, a signal of his departure. "Thank you for inviting me to lunch; I had a lot of fun."

"No problem Spencer, I'll see you at the match tonight." Hotch said standing up and hugging him in an almost fatherly gesture.

"I'll see you. Derek…" Spencer began turning to his right, looking at his new acquaintance.

"I'll see you tonight; if I win I'll buy you dinner as thanks." Derek said extending his hand and smiling in what he hoped was new friendship.

"I warn you, I have expensive tastes." Spencer said returning the smile and the hand.

"I can handle it."


	3. Chapter Two

The lion stared into the fire, mind wandering from thought to thought as the flame flickered. People, things, his past all passed through Derek's mind as his eyes focused on and through the candle. Derek closed his fingers around the flame, suffocating it, and walked towards his things lying haphazardly on a bench. He'd never fought at this gym, and the accommodations were a little less than what he was used to. He'd been in worse however, remembering back to early days in America where boxing was a near impossible feat for him and the only gyms he could spar at were less than well furnished and stocked.

Hearing the click of the door opening behind him, Derek's shoulders tensed, reacting instinctively. Turning to look, he saw the definite profile of one Aaron Walter Hotchner. Turning back Derek forced his shoulder back down and began wrapping up his hands.

"You look tense," Hotch commented walking in front of Derek and wrapping his hands for him.

"Well, shouldn't I be? This guy has killed people. I know I wanted this, and I still do, but Spencer really made me think about this. All that trying to get into Foyet's mind, it was…" Derek began letting the tension fall from him and relaxed into the familiar motions of having his hands wrapped.

"Eye opening," Hotch suggested.

"Yeah." Derek breathed flexing his newly finished hand as Hotch began on the other.

"Spencer has that effect on people," Hotch said looking into Derek's eyes trying to find some emotion or information with his penetrating stare.

"Hotch; don't look at me like that… I haven't done anything; I'm not going to do anything." Derek said firmly staring back at Hotch just as fiercely.

"Maybe you should. You never act, you never say how you feel; this isn't America Derek, some things are allowed." Hotch reminded him softly finishing with his hands.

"Even in France, what you're talking about isn't allowed." Derek retorted quickly standing and reaching for his gloves before Hotch seized him by the shoulders and turned him around.

"It would depend on who you ask."

"Hotch…"

Hotch let go his firm hold on Derek and took a step back breathing in deeply and releasing the tension he too had gained. "I just want you to walk out there and think about what you could have, not what you can't, but what you can. You can beat Foyet, you can do what ever you want to with Spencer, and you can actually start living your life. So, please just go out there be your usual charming self, wink at Pen, smile at Spencer, and beat the unbeatable, okay?"

"I'll try, mom, I'll try." Derek smiled wrapping his arms around the manager, squeezing tight.

"That's all I ask," Hotch returned, slipping out from the hug and moving towards the door, "Oh, and just so you know Pen has already started calling Spencer 'muffin'."

Derek laughed heartily as Hotch left the room and the door closed. The room returned to quiet; Derek finished with his gloves and looked down into the bag that he had waiting on the bench. His clothes, pack of cigarettes, and novel stared back up at him- nothing else.

Determined Derek beat his hands together and walked from the room. He followed the deep labyrinth from his small back room to the door of the main arena with little problem or thought at all. Hotch stepped forward from speaking with what Derek could only assume was Foyet's manager; he had that look about him. He looked slick, sneaky, and like he could use a good bath.

"You ready?" Hotch asked looking up and down Morgan's tensing body.

"I'll never be more ready, good enough?" Morgan replied flexing his entire body, section by section in anticipation.

"It's about the best I can hope for." Hotch said pushing open the door to the ring.

Derek stepped forward and was instantly calmed. The lion deep within his chest stepped forward and took over. He was brave, serene, and calculating; this lion could rule the world if he had the mind. Looking around Derek saw his small section of friends; Will, Jennifer, Pen, Hotch, and now Spencer. The women smiled broadly at him, while Will and Hotch gave him strong nods. Spencer, however, just gave him deep, intense eye contact and a hint of a smirk.

The lion dragged him into the rink and a great rumbling began in his chest; like he was warning the man standing opposite him in the ring. Foyet just smiled a cocky self assured grin; looking up and down Derek's body like he was deciding what cut would be best, like he was just a hunk of meat. Derek had gotten that look before but never with the intent that Foyet had right now.

"Gentleman," The referee began standing in the middle of the ring. "You are both advised of the rules, I expect you both to abide faithfully by them. Do you understand?"

Both competitors nodded harshly and knocked their gloves upon each others beginning the fight. Distantly he could hear the bell ding, but the lion in Derek was focused and thinking. Foyet began to circle Derek not making an actual move but trying to appear as though he had the upper hand, playing to the audience. Derek wouldn't follow that lead, that would get him killed. The lion took his time and waited outmaneuvering the thinner more agile man.

Derek quickly figured out this man didn't win because he was strong, fast, or tactically brilliant; he won because he played mind games with those he fought. He got them to show their weaknesses out of the ring and expose them within. He tried at first to get Derek to make a display of vanity by making the crowd believe he had the upper hand. Then he tried to get Derek angry by 'accidently' tripping him, an unsuccessful and extremely childish move Derek thought, but one well played. Apparently Foyet thought Derek's fault was pride, well he would show him just how humble he could be.

Derek began taking hits; carefully calculated to be the most ineffective ones. He started losing just that little bit, but he did it in anger. He began storming around, letting out fierce yells, and crying in outrage every time he let Foyet get the upper hand. Foyet got the grin right back on his face and began wailing. He let go of all his carefully placed blows to make up for his less than sufficient strength and let his rage tumble out.

So, Derek took this as his cue. He stood up straighter, tightened his muscles just that little bit more; and started the fight for real. He crowded Foyet pushing him back and back and back until finally he was left with no where to go. Derek had him cornered and there wasn't much Foyet could do about it. Derek began hitting deep aiming for the sides and Foyet's jaw. He was almost finished, just a few more hits and he would win. Then out of nowhere Foyet reached up, hooked his arm around and landed a blow right to Derek's left kidney.

Everything stopped; referees rushed into the ring, the crowd fell silent half in shock and half in confusion, the bell rung loudly over and over again in its own little corner, and Derek Morgan just stood there. Hotch was in the ring within seconds checking him and asking him questions Derek couldn't really comprehend at the moment. All he could think about was the referees were going to disqualify Foyet, he wouldn't get to beat him like he so clearly was about to do.

"It was an accident," Derek croaked looking down at where Foyet was seated on the ground smiling while being reprimanded by the refs.

"What?" Hotch asked softly, not believing for a second what Derek was saying.

"He was just reaching for anything he could hit; he didn't mean to get my kidney." Derek testified slowly coming to the realization that having your kidney almost punched in really did hurt quite a lot. "Just let us finish, we've only got two minutes left in the fight anyways, let _me_ finish."

"Okay," The referee said after a long pause, "You take your five and then well start again."

Derek returned to his corner and tenderly sat down. He let his eyes wander the arena; a family was sitting directly in his line of sight the young mother wrapping her arms gently around her young son his eyes glowing with delight at the spectacle, an old couple leaning on each other as if weathering a terrible storm and taking solace in each others arms, a group of friends-Derek's group of friends- sitting together and staring worriedly at Derek, necks craned to see his movements and Hotch's emotions. Looking further into the action Derek could see Spencer quietly calming Pen, most likely whispering statistics and facts in favor not only of his survival but of his winning, a thing that comforted Derek.

"You shouldn't have done that Derek; this guy will kill you if you keep pulling stunts like that." Hotch said massaging the area around Derek's injury shooing off the coach and second. "I don't even want to hear you argue with me about winning and never getting a second chance I've heard it before. Know that if you don't protect this kidney out there I will call this fight off and you won't get another chance you got that, Derek?"

"Yeah Hotch I got it, I know I can beat him." Derek said taking deep breaths when Hotch reached a particularly sensitive area.

"You better," Hotch said finishing the massage and walking back to Derek's row of supporters, calmly reporting the situation like the classic go between.

Derek could the muscles in Will's shoulders tense, the worried glance his fiancée-Jennifer kept giving both Will and himself, even the slight shaking of Pen's head firmly in opposition of what Derek was about to do, the look in Spencer's eye as he stared into the ring however; the unflinching confidence and understanding of the actions that Derek had made. The lion laid low in the grass preparing for the strike as the referee struck the bell and Derek stood up.


	4. Chapter Three

Paris was burning. Heat rose from the city stifling and suffocating everything within it, flames licked the very core of it working up there way to destroy the very thing giving them birth. An explosion of this heat blasted through the city burning everything within it as Derek Morgan stood up to begin fighting again in the ring. Spencer knew there was no logical reason for him to be feeling this way. No reason to feel as if his entire world was collapsing around him just because this man, this incredible man, was about to finish what he started.

The odds were with Derek, he'd told Penelope that much as she worried and wondered at what was happening to her friend. Spencer also knew that Derek was a brave and powerful man who was yearning to prove his worth. As much as he tried not to Spencer couldn't help but always use his knack for figuring out people, to figure out everyone; and Derek Morgan was one complicated individual. A person that Spencer found himself very attracted to; physically Derek was the perfect specimen of classic manhood, mentally he was complex and agile, emotionally- well Spencer would just say that obviously America had taken its toll. All of this was wrapped up in the fact that Derek was amazingly self-assured, extremely confident, and personable to an astonishing degree. This combination of traits made Derek, Spencer's kind of man; and that man was currently either about to win the victory of his career or be seriously injured trying.

Derek was doing well. He was landing punches that to Spencer's untrained eye looked unforgiving. Spencer cringed as Derek took a hit to his abdomen making the darker man pull back. He recovered quickly though getting closer once again and started punching fiercely- one right after another not giving thought to block Foyet's weak attempts at offensive maneuvers. Finally after a long minute, Derek landed a punch squarely in Foyet's eye knocking him out.

Spencer gave a sigh of relief as the referee rushed in counting the seconds that Foyet remained on the floor. Spencer was not watching Foyet however; he was staring intently into the eyes of the new champion in Parisian boxing. Derek's chest was heaving, he was holding his stomach, and smiling like he'd just been given a million francs. Spencer couldn't help the thought that he'd probably take this win over the million francs any day. The pair was shook out of their staring contest as the referee took Derek's left hand and raised it above his head announcing that he was the winner.

--------------

Spencer breathed in deeply. The night's air was a refreshing change from the crowded boxing hall filled with smoke and sweat. The group was patiently waiting the champion's arrival; they'd congratulated him profusely, cursed him for being so reckless, and finally allowed him to get ready for a night of celebrating and revelry. They all left the arena shortly after, reliving the nights moments aloud as they left the building. Standing outside, Spencer was grateful for living in Paris, the air was warm and comforting not hot and stifling like many places this time of year.

Spencer was grateful for living in Paris everyday. He was extremely lucky to have the life he did, and he didn't take it for granted. His father- both of his fathers- made sure of that. His biological father left Spencer and his mother when Spencer was only five and Spencer's mother was committed shortly after. His real father or at least the man Spencer considered his father- Jason Gideon- adopted Spencer on the third anniversary of his mother's hospitalization, and brought him into a world of music and art that he would thrive in and appreciate after all the experiences he'd gone through before.

Hearing a door open and close behind him Spencer turned back around to look at the new Paris champion. He was back in the clothes he'd worn today at lunch, however he carried them differently. At lunch he'd been anxious and thoughtful, right now; Derek Morgan looked like the sun was located where his heart should have been and all that light was shining through him. He was confident and proud of himself. He wasn't thinking like the rest of them were about how he almost killed himself or how he just fought the most dangerous boxer in Paris and won, leaving in perfect health. He was over the moon, and nothing could bring him down.

"So everyone where to?" Derek asked slinging his arm across Penelope's shoulders and grinning at the rest of the little group.

"Well, sorry to say but Will and I have to go home. My mom's not as young as she used to be and can't watch Henry for that long." Jennifer said looking up at Will, then going over and hugging Derek goodbye.

"We'll have you over for dinner sometime to celebrate." Will said taking his turn and hugging Derek before they both left for home.

"I should go home to Sophie and Jack as well. You'll be fine without me right?" Hotch asked looking pointedly at Derek.

"Yes mom, will be good little boys and girls." Derek said hooking his arm back around Pen.

"You'll watch him, right Pen." Hotch asked pulling the blonde aside.

"Just as fast as my eyes can follow and you know they can follow him anywhere." Penelope promised taking Morgan's hand as they all waved goodbye to Hotch.

"It was good to see you Spencer, don't let them talk you into anything." Hotch said slowly descending the steps down into the Metro.

The group slowly walked in the opposite direction towards Paris' nightlife. Spencer looked over at his companions for the night. They fit well together; Derek had his arm so carefully around Pen, Pen was laughing quietly to something Derek was saying and hitting his side, they were a great looking couple. Spencer was a little jealous he'd never had a relationship that was like that before…so easy.

"How long have you two been together?" Spencer asked politely as the waited for cars to pass.

"We're not together" and "Two years" came out of the pairs mouths at the same time. They both looked at each other; Penelope with confusion in her eyes and Derek trying to convey some message just by look.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Spencer started trailing off not quite sure what he was sorry about or even what was happening, but he was sure that they had something they obviously hadn't worked out and he'd put his foot in his mouth by assuming they were a couple.

"Don't worry, Pen is just overprotective. Any friend of Hotch's is a friend of ours right?" Derek asked looking at Penelope letting her know it was okay; once again Spencer wasn't sure what they were saying to each without words. "We're not together."

"Oh…so you're a homosexual." Spencer said bluntly putting the pieces together. Seeing that both Derek and Penelope had stopped in the street where they had been walking a moment ago Spencer reconsidered. "Forgive me if I misspoke, however your language and movements indicated…"

"No, you're right. I just…how did you know that?" Derek asked shocked at Spencer's seemingly wild guess, the more he thought about it however it made sense. Spencer studied human behavior, it was the reason they'd met in the first place.

"Well, when you said that Penelope was being overprotective for saying that you were together and giving you looks like she wanted you to be careful indicated that it was usually safer for you to pretend that you are together. The most plausible reason I can see for that would be that you're a homosexual." Spencer concluded very clinically and with just a hint of pride that he'd been correct.

Derek considered what the young genius just said. He supposed they were being a little obvious. They were comfortable with each other and most of the time people saw that as Spencer had; as them being in a relationship. So they let it happen and eventually started helping the illusion along. All their friends knew they were just best friends, but any acquaintance would think otherwise. Maybe it was time that they stopped helping people think they were a couple, that he was normal…average.

"Well, Spencer Reid, I believe I owe you dinner." Morgan finally said moving to hook his arm around Spencer and lead them further down into the Paris night. "Think you can get us into LuneNoir?"

"Of course I can." Penelope said confidently adjusting her dress and walking towards a staircase turning up the side of a building and to the fifth floor. As they walked up the stairs Spencer saw what attracted them to the restaurant. It was located in a very odd part of Paris on the fifth floor of a building with its own external staircase, eccentric. "Hello David, is there any chance I could get a table for three?"

"For you Pen, I'd love to, but it's packed tonight and I don't think I've got anything open." David said adjusting his bowtie and looking down into his guestbook.

"What if I gave a little performance? Entertainment for your very special guests' meals?" Pen asked leaning over the counter giving David the eye.

"I'll see what I can do…no promises Pen." David sighed going to the back to talk presumably to his manager.

"You're going to get quite a show. Pen's one of the best singers this side of the channel." Derek bragged leading Spencer towards the bar as Pen went into the back to get ready to perform.


	5. Chapter Four

The lion was sated beyond all recognition. He'd had his fill tonight; of food, alcohol, and fighting. However, the lion was not satisfied in one regard, he'd not quite had enough of one Spencer Reid. They'd had a wonderful dinner with Pen, laughing and talking, letting Spencer in on some of their secret jokes and creating some new ones for the three of them to share. Both men laughed from the sideline as Pen flirted and schmoozed her way into free dinner and wine for the three of them. After dinner was done Pen was whisked away by a very excited owner to prepare for her show.

"So Spencer, I haven't asked you; have you ever been here before?" Morgan asked trying what he felt like was desperately to restart the conversation after the loss of their blonde companion.

"Never, this is a great place. It's very eclectic and modern." Spencer answered fingering his wine glass, whether in an awkward gesture or mindlessly Derek couldn't tell.

"You'll like it even more once Pen gets onstage; she really makes this place shine." Derek said proudly eyes glancing towards the stage as a stage hand placed Pen's music on the piano. Looking back Derek could see Spencer's long fingers clearly still worrying the edge of his glass. "It doesn't make you nervous does it?"

"Seeing Penelope perform? No, I'm excited after what you've told me it should be an excellent show." Spencer said smiling shyly at Derek, fingers falling to the top of the table and moving over his fork.

"No I meant about where you're at. This…it doesn't bother you?" Derek asked gesturing around the room.

Spencer truly looked around for the first time. The space was dark and mellow, just stage lights from the piano and candles on the tables to illuminate everyone eating and laughing with friends and lovers. The people were difficult to see, smoke from cigarettes heavy in the air. However, even the smoke from Spencer's own cigarette didn't stop him from seeing the 'it' Derek was talking about. Almost all of the patrons of the restaurant were paired off into couples, very intimate couples, very intimate homosexual couples.

"Oh," Spencer proclaimed softly. Derek could see the surprise in his eyes, the revelation. Derek watched as Spencer took a new look around the room, using a more discerning eye to spot the differences of this establishment to every other one he'd been in before. "No, it doesn't bother me."

"Or at least it didn't before I put my foot in my mouth telling you where you were." Derek said sensing Spencer's hesitation to say that he was fine, that it didn't bother him. "You can't stop moving around, something's making you nervous."

"It's not the place, I'm fine with it." Spencer said moving his hands into his lap.

"Then what is it?" Derek asked looking Spencer in the eye and seeing his apprehension tried again. "I've told you a lot about me tonight; can't I understand this one little thing?"

"I figured that out you didn't tell me."

"Spencer…" Derek said placing his own hands on the table palm up in a gesture of trust.

"You." Spencer said raising his head and all of his self-confidence suddenly pouring from him. "You make me nervous. It's not that you're a homosexual-they don't scare me Derek, it's not that you could probably kill me just by looking at me-as much as I don't want to die I'm not afraid to do it either, and it's not that you're black- I couldn't care less. You make me nervous because I'm attracted to you. You are physical perfection, everything a man should be. That makes me nervous because for the first time in my life I'm actually attracted to someone who seems to feel the same way about me."

Derek tried to interrupt, to stop Spencer and tell him that he did feel the same. That Spencer was beyond anything Derek had even imagined; intelligent, amazing sense of style and self, beautiful. However Penelope used her usual horrendous sense of timing to come onto stage and address the audience.

"Hello everyone, my name in Penelope Garcia and I would like to sing you a little song. It's called 'Die Alone' and I'd like to dedicate it to a friend of mine who needs to sort some things out right now. Oh and Spencer darling could you play for me?" Penelope asked putting her hand above her eyes searching for her table in the dark. "The piano player went home and this one needs music."

Spencer stood and walked to the stage hopping up and walking to the piano deftly, kissing Pen on the cheek on his way over. Reading over the music quickly he began softly playing letting his hands lead him through the cords and melody. Pen smiled slowly at him turning to look at the audience, fully resting into performance.

_I woke up this morning with a funny taste in my head_

_Spackled some butter over my whole grain bread_

_Something tastes different, maybe it's my tongue_

_Something tastes different, suddenly I'm not so young_

_I'm just a stranger, even to myself_

_A re-arranger of the proverbial bookshelf_

_Don't be a fool girl, tell him you love him_

_Don't be a fool girl, you're not above him_

_I never thought I could love anyone but myself_

_Now I know I can't love anyone but you_

_You make me think that maybe I won't die alone_

_Maybe I won't die alone_

_Kiss the boys as they walk by, call me their baby_

_But little do they know, I'm just a maybe_

_Maybe my baby will be the one to leave me sore_

_Maybe my baby will settle the score_

_I never thought I could love anyone but myself_

_Now I know I can't love anyone but you_

_You make me think that maybe I won't die alone_

_Maybe I won't die alone_

_What have I become?_

_Something soft and really quite dumb_

_'Cuz I've fallen, oh, 'cuz I've fall-fallen, oh 'cuz I've fall-fall-fallen_

_So far away from the place where I started from_

_I never thought I could love anyone_

_I never thought I could love anyone_

_I never thought I could love anyone,_

_But you, but you, but you, but you, but you_

_But you make me think that maybe I won't die alone_

_Maybe I won't die alone_

Spencer played beautifully. The first thing that struck Derek, even before he began hitting the keys, was how beautiful he looked in profile; sleeves rolled up past the elbows, forearms defined and lithe, his hair hanging down in front of his face as he concentrated on the music before him. Then he struck that first note and Derek was officially in awe at the man before him. Spencer played with such ease that it flowed, an amazing pattern; beat after beat tearing out his heart. Derek couldn't even concentrate on Pen singing, he heard the words and recognized how well they complemented Spencer's playing; but that's all it was. His entire universe was now thought of in relation to this song being played like water slowly flowing across a mirror.

Derek felt like he couldn't hold onto the moment long enough, the song was ending and he wished it could go on forever. Just as Derek was worshipping those last few notes from both Spencer and Pen; the young piano player looked out into the audience. The eyes searched for a moment fighting with the stage lights for vision then rested on their target. Derek knew then that moment was the most powerful thing he'd ever experienced, and while he couldn't imagine anything more moving he was sure Spencer would find a way to make something move him even more; maybe past the point his body could handle.

"Thank you everyone, I love playing here and I'm sure my new friend Spencer will be back sometime to give you all a treat." Pen said over the applause and took Spencer's elbow leading him backstage.

Derek stood from the table, knowing that Pen and Spencer would be waiting for him on the stairs, as Pen usually did after performing. She liked to think that never greeting an audience personally made her appear mysterious, and for the most part it worked. Pen had a reputation for appearing at random, never booking performances, and having extremely little contact with her fans. Derek waved to the waiter as he walked out into the night. Spotting Pen he quickly walked over and silently pulled her into his arms.

"Wonderful as always, baby girl." Derek said swinging Pen around to look into her eyes.

"Why thank you Derek, you know how you inspire me." Pen winked at Derek taking his elbow just like she had taken Spencer's and lead them down the stairs. "Spencer is catching a cab for us, isn't that nice?"

"It's very nice, but I think he'll have to catch two. You know you live on completely the opposite side of Paris from me." Derek commented kissing Pen on the cheek-unknowingly on the same spot Spencer had kissed earlier in the night- as he saw Spencer waiting with the cab down in the street.

"Fine, don't come home with me tonight. You disappoint me Derek Morgan." Pen said kissing him back and getting into the cab. "You better make it up to me."

"I will, you know I will." Derek said waving goodbye as the cab pulled away from the curb and down the street towards Pen's side of town. "So where do you live, Spencer?"

"I live on Rue Fresnel, just off Avenue de New York." Spencer answered raising his hand once again to catch another cab.

"Perfect we can share." Derek said stepping down to slip into the cab.

-------------------

"I had a wonderful time tonight." Spencer said finding his tongue in English, as to not be overheard by the driver whose taxi Derek and he were currently sitting in.

"You speak English very well, and you're welcome. I still haven't bought you dinner yet though, Pen got that for us." Derek said teasingly.

"That is true; you'll have to take me somewhere sometime." Spencer said turning his head towards the cab window where his small house was. "Come and see me sometime, or call"

"I will" Derek said nodding so Spencer would know that he could get out of the cab now without offense. "And just so you know, I think you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and am more attracted to you than I've ever been to another person."

Spencer stopped in his tracks as he walked across the sidewalk. Turning around with a grin on his face he readjusted his blazer and winked at Derek a devilish look on his face.

"You're a brave man Derek Morgan, a very brave man."


	6. Chapter Five

The lion swayed happily to the music floating from a singer and his trumpet player. Derek was once again in Parc Monceau enjoying a well deserved day of rest, after his defeat of the most dangerous boxer in Paris and some of his inhibitions. Derek was more than content to sit in the park and enjoy the air. The music was a wonderful bonus; the singer was good but the trumpet player exquisite. Derek was playing with the idea of giving the man Hotch's name and number. He was sure it would earn him a few points with the manager; points he would most definitely need when Hotch found out that Derek had been outed by Spencer.

Spencer-the thought of the young man brought a smile to Derek's face and he had the sudden urge to go see the prodigy. Shaking his head of the thought of going to visit the man so early, after only a few hours apart, Derek stood from his spot on the bench across from the musicians and walked out of the park, dropping a ten and Hotch's number into the Trumpeters case. Derek reached the very edge of the park- the exit closest to his street and looked back longingly into the park- he wished he had more days like this to spend.

He felt crazy to feel like he did right now. A 'date' with the most beautiful man he'd ever met lay just a few hours a head of him and he was happier than he'd ever been. More than when he'd received his ticket Paris, more than when he'd completed his first 'assignment', and more than when he'd first told Pen about him. A night of dancing at Mélange then a walk through Derek's favorite park, hopefully Spencer would be to drunk by then to even contemplate doing anything other than stumbling up to Derek's apartment and spending the night.

Derek felt like scum thinking about it, Spencer was special so while Derek may have been known (by very few mind you) to bring someone home now and again, he wanted to leave Spencer's and his relationship to grow. Frankly, Derek knew how attractive he was. Pen wasn't the kind of friend to let him forget it and he knew how easy it would be for him to go to any one of the clubs he frequented and come into some luck. He wanted more from Spencer. Yes, eventually he wanted that, but not until he got plenty more. Let it not be said that Derek Morgan was anything less than a gentleman.

"Derek?" Spencer said looking up from where he was standing next to the door to Derek's apartment. "I'm glad you're here, I was going to leave soon."

"Spencer, what are you doing here? You aren't going to cancel tonight are you?" Derek asked worried and put his key into the door, unlocking it and ushering the younger man inside.

"No, I'm not but I do want to speak with you." Spencer said walking into the apartment eyes slowly drifting through the long, spacious living room to the window opposite the pair. To Derek it showed the familiar, comforting view that was his park; to Spencer however it was a reminder of his past. A part of his past he wasn't so keen on remembering. "You have a lovely apartment Derek."

"Thank you, please have a seat" Derek offered sitting down on the low couch facing the window, giving Spencer the option to either sit next to him on the couch or choose the chair sitting next to him.

"Thank you," Spencer said sitting next to Derek on the couch. "I just want to say in advance that you shouldn't feel pressured about anything you can make your decision without feeling any pressure from me. Now having said that, I have a problem I need your help with. My father is a very famous conductor; he however has certain opinions that make it hard for him to stay in work when he expresses them. He's a very vocal man. One of these opinions revolves around the rights and treatment of homosexuals. While the music world is one of tolerance and acceptance, they see a difference between looking the other way and openly acknowledging what's going on. So while certain employers themselves have no problem with my father, they can't afford to hire someone with a reputation that he has. I was thinking perhaps you could accompany me and my father out to some places; perhaps a play or opera. You have quite the reputation yourself as a very… rugged man, one that would certainly, at least not to the eye of the public, share the opinions that my father has."

"So you want to me to go out with you and your father to mend his reputation?" Derek asked looking at Spencer with an unreadable expression on his face.

"When you say it like that it sounds horribly selfish doesn't it? Yes, and I think it could do something for yours as well. You're famous in the boxing world yes, but to the general public you're fairly unknown. My father's company could change that. The only thing is it would be a gamble; there's no doubt that you'd become very well known-in what context, could go either way."

"How do you mean?"

"You could change my father's reputation to a milder one or my father could change yours to a more radical one." Spencer said trying to delicately relay the possible risks to Derek.

"So what you're saying is I could either make your father seem more heterosexual or he could make me seem homosexual." Derek clarified looking down at his lap and realizing how close he and Spencer had gotten over the course of their conversation.

"Yes."

"Well, I can only live once, right?" Derek said having decided as soon as Spencer had asked that he would do whatever the pianist asked of him.

"You don't have to do this, you know that right? I wouldn't even ask but he would die if he couldn't work anymore, and I think it makes him feel old having all these places have to reject him. He knows they don't want to, so in his mind it's because they think he can't anymore…but you really don't have to do this. I know how much of a risk it is for you, especially since you are a homosexual." Spencer said placing his hand on Derek's arm in a comforting gesture.

"It's okay; I want to do this for you. It's not that big of a risk for me, I'm old for a boxer anyways I can't keep up much longer as it is. I'd be happy to do this Spencer." Derek assured Spencer taking the hand that was on his arm into his own hand.

"Thank you so much Derek, this means a lot to me." Spencer said squeezing Derek's hand gently.

"You're very welcome, so when do I get to meet your father?" Derek asked willing a teasing tone into his voice and the conversation.

"Right now if you're not busy…" Spencer said eyes shining up into Derek's.

"Right now…no I've got nothing to do. You've got to get me back by tonight though; I've got a date with this guy." Derek teased bring both Spencer and him onto their feet.

"He's probably a twit." Spencer said pulling his head down into his chest shyly.

"Nah, he's a real pip." Derek replied leading Spencer out of his apartment.

Twit- Fool or Idiot

Pip- attractive person


	7. Chapter Six

The lion woke feeling heavy and groggy; pain emanating from his core thudding through the beast. Derek opened his eyes and groaned at the sight that met his burning pupils. He was lying in what could only be described as a cell, and it was not the fairly nice cells of the Parisian Police department that Derek had once had the unfortunate pleasure of spending a night in for 'lewd behavior'. This cell was filthy; green mold grew down from the high window, spilling onto the floor and pooling into a small lake of fungus. It was cold even though it must have been hot outside; this time in summer it couldn't have been anything else.

Derek stood carefully, walking over to the window and looking through the small window almost too tall for him to see the Seine slowly flowing the in humid heat of midday. At least Derek hoped it was the Seine, who knew what day it was or where he was. The last thing Derek could remember was getting onto the metro with Spencer. Speaking of the young genius, Derek was worried about the smaller man. While Derek was more than physically capable of handling himself in whatever altercation they likely got themselves into, Derek seriously doubted that the pianist had any training in self-defense.

Just as Derek had worked himself into a panic about his counterpart, the heavy wooden door to his cell opened up and in walked a woman dressed in a bright orange flowing gown, giving her the immediate appearance of a socialite. Derek knew better.

"Hello, Derek" The woman spoke with a light accent, most likely Swiss-Italian. "It's nice of you to join us."

With this statement she grabbed Derek's chin lifting his face to look into his eyes. She scanned his face searching for something-something she didn't find by the way she immediately released him and walked back to the door.

"I hope you'll let us know when you're ready to talk." She said making ready to leave.

"Usually they ask you questions before determining that you are not going to talk to them." Derek proposed moving towards the woman and the door.

"If I needed to ask you anything, I wouldn't be good at my job Derek." The woman pointed out, pulling off her soft linen gloves.

"What exactly would that be, if you don't mind me asking?" Derek asked getting very close to the woman, close enough to smell the rose oil pouring from her body.

"I'm what one might call an interrogator, but the term seems so harsh. Just call me Emily, why don't you Derek." She finally said leaving the room in a whorl of orange and rose.

------------

It was dark again. Derek's third day in this…place and only the second time he'd seen the woman in orange. He'd been constantly visited by a string of food-bringers, bathroom escorts, and babysitters; but only twice by Emily. In Derek's mind it was an absurdly nice name for someone who was obviously going to kill him when this was all through. The worst part of being held captive was not knowing what was happening with Spencer.

Derek wasn't sure of anything when it came to the younger man. Derek didn't know where he was, what was happening to him, or even if he'd been kidnapped with Derek. After two days of going over and over in his mind the events of the day he was taken, Derek still couldn't remember what had happened. That worried him more than anything else. He naturally couldn't ask his jailors whether they had Spencer; what if he'd been taken later when not in Spencer's presence and they didn't even know of the doctor? What if they had him somewhere and were waiting for Derek to mention him so they could use him as a tool to get him to talk? There were simply too many variables for Derek to safely get an answer to his most fervent question.

He had however gotten some insight into his whereabouts. It was apparent that they were still in France as the guards watching over him constantly were baffled when Derek spoke Romansh which not many spoke but almost all in Switzerland could recognize; which was obviously where Emily was from and the only place in Europe that Derek knew of that had the same weather as northern France this time of year. He was fairly certain that they were still in Paris as well; he could hear the man that brought him his breakfast and lunch everyday arguing with another man about a football match that Derek had planned on attending in the city.

Derek had to quit thinking about the past though. It didn't really matter what city he was in or if Spencer had been taken with him as well. The only way to truly help him would be escaping and figuring out exactly what had happened. Derek was certainly well trained enough to accomplish this. However, he needed to put together just one last puzzle piece before his escape…

…why had they taken _him_?

As Emily walked into his cell for the second time he knew he had his chance. He tried to make his face appear open and inviting; willing to talk. He laid his arms at his side in a gesture of faith. Walking in for the second time, Emily smiled a large, predatory smile.

"Well Derek, I see we're a little more open to talking today." She whispered into his ear sitting in a chair that had been set in front of Derek's cot seconds before.

"I have some questions I want answered and I figure a trade is the most…democratic way to solve our little situation." Derek said loudly forcing Emily to lean back; she smiled however and crossed her ankles politely.

"I think that can be accomplished; you ask your questions- I might answer, I might not- and you answer mine- which you will answer." Emily said confidently pulling out a cigarette and offering to Derek.

"No thank you." Derek declined, noting the attempt to distract him for what it was "Why am I here? I know it's information of some sort, but what is the ultimate goal? Money, power, intelligence? I assure you I have very little of all three."

"Now, now, Derek we know that isn't true. You make a very fine living doing what you do, you are very influential in the right circles, and are just as smart as strong; but you are right while our short term goal is to make you talk our long term goal is slightly more complicated. Of course I won't be telling you what it is. I will however answer the real question that you're asking here; we know you're an American agent."

It took Derek a moment to process that thought, he had suspected that his status and an asset to the US government might be a reason for his imprisonment, but that was just a maybe. Just like the thousand other reasons that they could have for kidnapping him.

"So Derek, now I think it's time you answer a question of mine." Emily said smirking evilly at Derek's stunned silence.

"I thought you didn't ask questions" Derek lashed out, losing the composure he promised himself he would keep throughout this 'conversation'.

"For you Derek…I'll make an exception." Emily said finally lighting up the cigarette Derek had refused. "What exactly do you think we've been doing to little piano player?"

"I wasn't even sure you had Spencer." It was all Derek could think to say.

"Oh, we have him alright. He's been enjoying himself as far as I can tell." Emily replied her mouth twisted into a lecherous grin-Derek had no idea how he restrained himself from leaping from his bed and choking the life from her. "But you still haven't answered my question. You didn't know for sure that we had him that's true but you must have imagined. What nightmares wormed their way into your brain at night? What horrors woke you? Did you imagine that we tortured him? He is a fragile one, he'd break easy…but we didn't do that Derek. I've been honest; I do believe he's been enjoying himself."

"Just stop okay…isn't my turn again?" Derek asked feeling his stomach try and escape its worldly prison.

"Alright Derek, I suppose I've had my fun. Ask another question." Emily said stomping down the butt of her cigarette by the heel of her boot.

"Where is Spencer?"

"I'll show you him." Emily stood abruptly and turned away from Derek and motioned to the guard at the door.

The guard disappeared; walking down the hallway Derek knew must be long by the echoes he could hear in his room. He returned quickly opening the door wide for a tall man to pass through. He was dressed in a light gray suit making his long frame appear to stretch on forever. He smiled sweetly at Emily, kissing the top of her hand before looking at Derek, with a sad pensive look.

"Spencer" Derek choked out.


	8. Chapter Seven

Paris was flooded. Spencer couldn't decide between any of the many emotions he felt at seeing Derek Morgan chained to a cot in the corner of a cell. Some were so fearsome it frightened him that he could even think such things, while others were so tender that Spencer wondered what this man could possibly posses to make him feel like his heart would explode at any moment.

"Hello, Derek" Spencer said taking the seat that Emily had recently vacated. "I hope Emily hasn't treated you to poorly."

"Spencer...what's going on?" Derek pleaded leaning off the wall his cot was bolted to and reaching out to touch the young man.

"Derek, if you'd refrain from touching me, I'd be more than happy to share the story." Spencer said taking the chair and pushing it just out of Derek's reach. "I was adopted by Jason Gideon on the third anniversary of my mother's hospitalization. Three years in an orphanage, with every kind of imaginable torment there was, especially one as young and intelligent as I was. A man changed all of this for me. Not my father, but another man. He would come to the orphanage every week or so and bring me things, talk with me. He would still come find me even after I moved to Paris. He is the man that I now work for. No one knows, not Hotch, not even my father."

Spencer hated the look that grew from Derek's face as Spencer lit a cigarette.

"But I'm sure you wish to know how we figured out you were a spy." Spencer said dragging out the last word like he knew how much Derek disliked the term. "The Fuerst job. It cost you a lot, that mission. First your handler, then your information; now possibly your life, depending on how you cooperate. How does it make you feel knowing you've caused someone to die, that you let down everyone?"

"What do you want?" Derek asked from under the hands running over his scalp in defeat.

"You." Spencer said mouth turning into a grin. "Your contacts, information, anything you know. Even the slightest little procedural blip we want to know."

"You know I can't give you any of that." Derek replied looking up into Spencer's eyes.

"Why? For a country that doesn't even like you? Because of a job that's going to get you killed without any regards towards your well being? What's in it for you Derek?"

"You won't change my mind don't try." Derek announced with a tone of finality.

"I know that you won't change your mind, just like you know that I won't stop trying." Spencer said in the same tone, leaning back in his chair. "But you have to know that eventually things will get so bad for you, you won't even be able to make the conscious decision to betray everything you've ever know. It will just happen and you wont even know you've done it till you hear yourself crying out for mercy that will never come."

Derek didn't reply. They remained in this silence for almost an hour. Neither spoke, neither made even the smallest of sounds, they barely moved. Spencer had an idea of what Derek was thinking of as he faced the far wall in determination to not look in Spencer's direction or even think about him. Spencer was thinking as well.

_Paris was drenched to the bone. Spencer was caught out in the rain once more; rain was okay, going back to the orphanage before he absolutely had to was not. His clothes clung tightly to his body, his body shivered every so often, his eyes kept darting back and forth looking constantly for danger; but he did not see the man watching him._

_Yellowing with age, like a book that was too well loved, the man eyed the young boy walking resolutely down an abandoned street in the middle of the pouring rain; a lost soul, that is what this boy was. Lost souls were just the thing this man sought out. The younger and more impressionable the better, easier to control. This young boy fit his type perfectly._

"_Hey." The man called out catching Spencer's attention and gesturing for him to enter the shelter of the doorway the man was currently leaning on. "What's your name?"_

"_Why do you want to know?" Spencer asked cautiously stepping back into the rain, away from this strange man._

"_Don't worry so much, I'm not a cop...you a runaway?" The man tried again._

"_Orphan." Spencer replied folding his arms defensively over his chest. _

"_You live at St. Ann's?" _

"_Who are you?" Spencer asked peering up into the man's leathery face._

"_My name is David" The man said putting forth a gloved hand and an unnaturally bright smile._

_It was David Rossi's greatest luck to have found Spencer Reid that day._

Spencer was soon knocked out of his memories of meeting his earliest mentor. Emily was gently knocking on the door to Derek's cell, watching in rapt attention to the staring contest that Spencer was having with Derek and Derek was having with the wall.

"What is it Em?" Spencer asked gently turning around in his chair to face his companion.

"Rossi want's to see you...says it's about the new guy." Emily said stepping forward into the room and taking Spencer's seat as he stood to visit 'the boss'. "I'll watch him while your gone."

"Thank you." Spencer said taking one last look at Derek before he left.

In that look he saw what he needed to know about the man. He was scared no doubt, anyone would be captured by the guy you thought you were about to go on a date with then forced (or about to be forced) to give up information, betraying your country. There was that solid look or determination and a will made of steel that Spencer had found so attractive at Derek's fight. What made up Spencer's mind about this strong man was the look of regret that would flicker across eyes so deep. It made Spencer almost ache to look at. He knew Derek wouldn't be telling them anything.

Still, he walked towards the office that was far away in space and class from the dungeon in which Derek lived. The young pianist wondered what David could possibly want to speak to him about, he was handling interrogations just as he was taught to, nothing had presented a problem so far. Perhaps David had something to tell him about Derek, some new information that could help with the proceedings.

Knocking quietly on the large oak double-doors, Spencer quickly stepped into the office not waiting for an invitation to enter. He sat quietly in a large wing-backed chair, waiting for David's phone call to end. Looking around the room he had been in thousands of times before he sensed something that wasn't there before. Searching he found a new blood-stained painting hanging next to the portrait of David and his wife. David taking a piece of artwork from one of their latest victims was nothing new, bringing one home seeping with that victims blood and hanging on the wall where everyone would see was quite a revelation.

It scared Spencer to think that his mentor had changed so much. In the early days David wouldn't have thought about killing a fly much less a human being. Spencer hadn't noticed the subtle transition from blackmailing heads of state to killing someone for no reason other than David wanted them too. Somewhere along their path of destruction David had transformed into something Spencer found completely incompatible with the man who saved him from a life of beatings and destitution.

"I see you noticed the new piece, Spencer" David uttered in that low tone he had when talking with Spencer, a tone Spencer had never heard him use in front of anyone else.

"It's covered." Spencer replied without hesitation. "What with Kathrine think?"

"I told her it was a new experimental artist that used pigs blood to 'enhance the cruelty of poverty we place on the lower class'" David grinned openly at his own deception.

"Emily said you wanted to see me about Morgan." Spencer said easing back into the comfortable velvet upholstery.

"Yes," David said eyes going dark and smile turning into a deep grimace. "We have a problem with him."

"What?" Spencer gasped fearing the worst.

"I know you have actual feelings for him, feelings I haven't seen you feel since you were adopted." David said turning his head away from his young protege. "You must either extract the information we need by force or you must kill him. You cannot allow feelings like this to grow."

His mind went blank with panic with these words from a man that Spencer had trusted with his life for longer than he cared to think about. Only one thought could escape the total fear that encased his entire being... Derek couldn't die, no matter what, Derek had to live.


End file.
